


Trust

by Cephied_Variable



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asphyxiation, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 22:19:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5761021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephied_Variable/pseuds/Cephied_Variable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaz and Big Boss discuss the rift in their relationship like mature, reasonable adults.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Trust](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7088257) by [zmzm007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zmzm007/pseuds/zmzm007)



> [fill for the kink meme](http://mgs-kink.dreamwidth.org/757.html?thread=306677#cmt306677%22), cleaned up and edited a bit. 
> 
> Art for this fic is linked in the endnotes.

*

It's been such a long, goddamn day that at first Kaz misses all the obvious clues that someone has broken into his office. They're intentional clues as well, little bread-crumbs strewn from one end of the room to the other: a bit of red dirt by the door - definitely not native to Angola, the tape in his recorder - rewound by ten minutes, and someone has tilted every single one of his pens slightly to the left just to be an asshole. 

It's not that Kaz's mind _didn't_ categorize these details, it's that none of them made any sense until he noticed the faint scent of stale cigar smoke permeating the office. He stops breathing for a moment when he realizes what's going on, and all of his muscles seize up. His body begins reacting the same way it does before receiving a blow that can't be dodged - _be somewhere else, be someone else, take the hit and roll with it, don't show how much it hurts_ -

"Get the hell out of my office," he says - very quiet, very controlled, just the slightest quiver at the end of each clipped consonant.

Big Boss has the audacity to laugh. "I've been here watching you work for nearly fifteen minutes. Your instincts are getting sloppy, Kaz."

Kaz clenches his jaw. "I have nothing to say to you."

"I disagree..." the sound of Snake's clunky, old zippo clicking three times before igniting is as loud as a gunshot in the tiny, steel cage of Kaz's office. Big Boss steps out from his hiding spot and rounds the desk, lighting his cigar while he walks. Kaz refuses to look directly at him, but his eyes track the shape of Snake's flickering shadow as he moves. Snake takes a long drag off his cigar, then he taps the towering stack of mission files at the corner of the desk. "Looks like there's a lot to catch up on. You've done well with this place - I'm impressed, even if the security is a little lax."

"Go to hell," Kaz says.

Big Boss is silent for a moment. Kaz can hear him sigh around the butt of his cigar. He flicks a bit of ash onto the floor and then says: "I guess we need to talk about that as well."

"Like I already said - there's nothing to talk about."

"Apparently there is. You're upset."

"Oh, I'm _sorry_ that I'm _upset_. I must be making this so difficult for you."

Big Boss doesn't respond, doesn't rise to that incredibly cheap jab. Of course he doesn't - Kaz is using tactics that work on actual human beings. Big Boss is an ax-crazy wild man who runs on animal instinct; it's gonna take more than a little sarcasm to make him even begin to feel guilty. Kaz grips the edge of his desk and flexes his fingers. Very softly, he says: "I waited for you... and you left me in the dark."

"That's an oversimplification of what happened."

"Is it?" Kaz drags himself unsteadily to his feet. He's so shaken with rage that he needs to use the desk as a ballast to keep himself from falling over. Finally, he looks at Big Boss: there he is - handsome, whole and confident. He's barely aged a day since 1975, unlike Kaz who is quite literally half the man he used to be. "You have no... fucking clue what the past nine years have been like for me, Snake."

"I have some idea. You persevered through great adversity and became the leader I always knew you were capable of being."

" _Fuck_ you."

"Kaz, listen to me: that's why it was such an easy decision to entrust this operation to you, even after everything that's happened."

"'Entrust'? You _entrusted_ it to me!?" Kaz snaps, letting his rage froth up and turn all his words into daggers. It feels good to get angry fast and let it out for once. He spends too much time burying this rage under layers of pain and protocol, as to not embarrass himself in front of Ocelot and the men. He feels like he’s been saving this anger up for _years_. "Don't make me laugh! You don't _trust_ me. If you did - God... you'd think that I'd deserve at least the decency of a phone call? A letter - a fucking telegraph missive, Snake! Just anything to tell me that you -" _still cared_ , is what Kaz almost says. He bites down on those words, tucks them under his tongue and says: "- gave a shit about everything we sacrificed for you! Me, _and_ the MSF."

"Your skills are most effectively utilized in an environment like this. Do you think that you should have been with me? In the state that you're in?"

"No, of course not. _You_ should have been _here_! With your men! With... with _me_! You're talking like I should be grateful, like this place is... is some kind of _gift_!?" Kaz grabs his crutch and sweeps it across the desk in a single, furious swoop. The missions files scatter and his tape recorder goes flying. It hits the floor with a tinny crunch and the tape pops out, coming to a stop at Big Boss's feet. Snake gives him a patronizing look, but Kaz isn't finished. 

He hobbles out from behind his desk and jabs Snake in the sternum with the foot of his cane. "It's not a gift - it's a lie. It's a placating fucking _fantasy_ , a smoke-shield to absorb all the blame for our mistakes - not mine, Snake - _ours_. The mistakes we made _together_! So you can, what? Play hooky like some american salary man having a mid-life crisis!?"

"That's enough, Kaz," Snake says calmly.

"No, it's not _enough_! Did you expect me to just swallow all this like a good little soldier!? I'm not a good little soldier, _"Boss"_ , I'm your _partner_ , and after all we've been through together, I deserved an explanation! If you had just told me what was going on, I might have _agreed_ to it. But instead you ran, like a coward, you selfish, self- _righteous_ goddamn _piece of shi_ -"

Big Boss shuts him up with a blow to the trachea. Kaz stumbles back, stunned. He is completely unable to defend himself when Big Boss grabs the left lapel of his coat, jerks him forward, spins him around and slams him over the surface of the desk with brutal efficiency. The motion knocks the wind out of Kaz, and it sends his sunglasses tumbling off. They hit the desk and go bouncing over the edge.

 _Oh well, this is it,_ Kaz thinks. Somehow he always knew, deep down, that he would die with Snake's arm around his neck, whether it was because they were going down together, or because Big Boss was simply making good on the very first promise he'd ever made to him.

The blow never comes, however. Big Boss pins Kaz to the desk with his body and strokes a tender palm across his collarbone before planting a kiss to the back of his neck. Kaz presses his eyes shut, disbelieving. _Shit, this is even worse_. "Stop," he says out loud.

Big Boss kisses him again, this time with teeth and along the jaw. "You've been through a lot, Kaz, but you're still alive. You shouldn’t take that for granted."

"I'm serious, Snake. Don't touch me."

Big Boss grabs Kaz's wrist and pins it to his side as if to ask: _’What are you going to do about it?’_ It's true - there's no way he can escape. Bile rises in his throat at the realization of how trapped he is right now. Even more than the sight of him, the feel of Big Boss's warmth and weight against his back makes Kaz sick. There's no way to just dissociate the way he's learned in the last year either; Big Boss is just too much to ignore. Every nerve in Kaz's body has been standing to rapt attention since the moment he realized Snake was in the room.

He grounds his forehead into the desk and tries to steady his ragged breathing. He won't beg. No matter what happens, he _won't fucking beg_.

"How many people did you sleep with while I was in the coma?" Big Boss wonders, idly carding his fingers through Kaz's hair. "You were never able to keep away from the women, but I wonder... did you branch out a bit when I was gone?"

"Why," Kaz rasps. "Are you _jealous_?" 

That draws a sincere laugh. Big Boss folds Kaz's coat over one hip and runs his hand down his back lasciviously. The way his fingers linger as they drag after his palm makes it obvious exactly what's going to happen even before Big Boss begins working at the buckles on Kaz's uniform. "Just wondering what kind of things you'd ask all those men to do to you."

"None of your goddamn business." Big Boss nosing into his sex life was probably number three on Kaz's list of _'Top five things I did_ not _miss about Snake while he was in a coma'_. It was always so outrageous, the way he acted like them fucking was no more meaningful than them going to the shooting range together, but at the same time behaved like he had some sort of propriety over what Kaz did with his dick on off-hours. 

... Kaz hated it, sure, but after that time Snake had bent him over in the showers to examine the scratches on his back and ass, he'd jerked off about nothing else for nearly two months, fantasizing that Snake _had_ actually been jealous when he clearly was not. In the past he always had to work so _hard_ to get even a sliver of the Boss's sexual attention; the fact that he was here now - pinned and unwilling - was like some kind of weird monkey's paw wish gone wrong. 

Big Boss slips off one of his gloves, loosening the fingers with his teeth. Kaz can hear him licking his hand and slicking up his dick. It's not until he feels a gloved palm roll over his ass that he realizes Snake's planning to go in without preparation. His stomach turns with twin sensations of panic and excitement - there's a small part of him that really wants to see how bad this is going to get. The bigger part of him, however, snarls in protest, twists beneath Snake's grip and throws back his arm to smash him in the nose with his elbow. Big Boss catches his arm halfway up. He runs his thumb over the bones affectionately before twisting Kaz's arm back so far that it dislocates the shoulder.

Kaz's pained cry is cut short by the grunt of surprise he makes when Snake's cock rubs against the cleft of his ass.

"Get ready," Big Boss warns, using his bare fingers to guide the head in. 

Kaz nearly chokes on his own tongue when Big Boss forces him open, but he still manages to say: "Go fuck yourself," without sounding too messed up.

It's not like the _haven't_ done this before... ten years ago with proper lubricant and the pleasant mood lighting of a kerosene lamp filtered through mosquito netting - at Kaz's request, of course; he'd always been adventurous, chasing after sexual extremes the way a junkie chased a high. This is different in so many ways - even if Kaz could relax, he wouldn't want to. He fights every centimetre of Snake's agonizingly slow descent. The pain is almost exquisite, but he refuses to concede to it, and he refuses to beg Snake to stop. 

By the time Big Boss is all the way in, Kaz's skin has gone tender and feverish. He's trembling all over from the effort it's taken to stay completely silent. "Shhh," Big Boss soothes, running his fingers down the bumps of Kaz's spine. "Shhhh..."

"What the hell... is wrong with you!?" Kaz gasps. He screws his eyes shut against the mounting pressure and tries to push the pain out of his mind, the same way he did in Afghanistan when they pulled the tourniquet tight around his thigh, the same way he does every single day when the invisible pain begins churning beneath the missing bones of his right arm...

Big Boss rolls their hips together in a gentle, experimental half-thrust. The friction _burns_ , but it feels... good. Too good. Snake is giving him some time before he gets going - stretching him out after the fact. That sort of care and consideration makes Kaz _really_ mad. How dare he. How fucking _dare_ he - honestly, he'd rather Snake just take out a knife and slit his throat than _this_.

"If you're gonna do it," Kaz hisses, "do it fucking _right_."

"Okay, then. Tell me what you want."

Kaz snorts. "If you really cared about what I wanted, your dick wouldn't be in my ass. You wouldn't be in my office. You wouldn't even... be aliv-" He doesn't finish the thought because Big Boss chooses that moment to move. He pulls out almost to the tip and thrusts back in so hard that it's like a punch to the gut with brass knuckles. Kaz bites the inside of his mouth and slams his forehead against the desk to keep himself from crying out. On the second thrust, he bites down so hard that he draws blood. On the third, he moans - guttural, cracked, but undeniably aroused. Yeah, okay, fine - that _was_ what he'd wanted.

Kaz sucks in air, tries to suck the noise back in, but it just comes out again the next time Snake slams into him. There's no rhythm - Snake fucks him in uneven staccato, gripping his hips so hard that it's going to leave bruises. This is always how Big Boss has been at sex - all power and intuition, no technique. When he was younger, Kaz loved how _messy_ it all was, how edged with danger every encounter was, like inviting a wolf into your bed and then cutting your neck. He was always the one to bring some finesse to it, turning their sex life into a strange mirror of their business partnership: Kaz building structure from chaos. But right now he can't do anything - he can't roll back his hips to meet Snake's thrusts, he can't move his hand to jerk himself off and he can't even bite down on anything to stop himself from making desperate, breathless sounds.

His own cock is only half-hard, but it twitches traitorously every time Big Boss strokes over his prostate. He's panting so hard that a puddle of drool has begun to form under his chin. He tries to shift himself into a more comfortable position, but with his arm flailing at his side, all he manages to do is writhe helplessly and make the angle that Snake's fucking him from even more inconvenient. Snake grabs the back of his head in one palm and presses his face against the desk, hard, to keep him still.

"Kaz, stop struggling. Let me take care of you." Big Boss isn't just talking about the sex.

"That's... not... what I _want_."

Big Boss yanks him up by the hair. "Then what do you want?"

"I want to... be _with_ you... n-not-"

In their new position - Big Boss's chest pressed flush against Kaz's back - Snake can reach around to touch Kaz's face. He drags his ungloved knuckles down the line of Kaz's jaw, then begins to tug the knot of his tie loose. "Then be with me," he growls into Kaz's ear. Kaz leans into the touch despite himself. After all this time, it still works: the little moments of tenderness that break up the roughness, that elevate it from mere violence to _communication_.

"Boss," Kaz sighs, " _Boss_... you don't get to... just... say that."

"I'm not just saying it."

"I don’t... _trust_ you anymore."

"Oh?" Big Boss murmurs, stroking his thumb up and down the ridge of Kaz's adam's apple. "Don't you?"

The moment Big Boss's hand closes around his throat, Kaz's cock jumps. He whines at the sudden ache - the first, exploratory tightening of Snake's fingers around his jugular feels so good that his eyes nearly roll back in his head. Kaz tries to swallow back the sound, but even if Snake weren't close enough to hear it, he would have felt it thrum beneath his hand.

He chuckles. " _Kaz_ , you're so transparent."

"Fuck you..." Kaz gasps, "I'm an... extremely good liar. Fooled you... once or twice...."

"Mmmm, but not like this. Never like this." He strangles Kaz gently at first, massaging his neck in long, languid strokes. He fucks him at the same pace, timing each inward thrust with the tightening of his hand. Kaz gulps down air greedily, knowing that soon he won't be getting any at all.

Back when they first started this - what seems like an entire lifetime ago - Kaz had once asked Snake why he always just assumed that he'd come out on top during their (increasingly frequent) hookups. Snake's answer had been, as expected, infuriatingly condescending. _'It's not about me, Kaz,'_ he said. _'It's about you. You work too hard, you think too hard, you spend too much time trying to impress everyone, even me. It's good for you to be forced to not think about anything at all sometimes. Moreover, it's good for the MSF if their XO is in good mental health. You need to relax.'_

And while it pissed him off at the time - _'really, Boss? It's good for business if you put your cock in my ass every once in awhile?'_ \- Kaz had to admit that the Boss was right: he really liked having his brains quite literally fucked out. He relished the feeling of being plowed so hard that afterwards he felt a little like he'd smoked a whole gram of marijuana: sated and happy and high. When he thought about it that way, it felt less like a domination game and more like the Boss was just doing him a favour.

That's the feeling Kaz is chasing right now. The lack of air drains any pain from the penetration and turns every rough thrust into a bright spike of pleasure. Kaz stops thinking about how angry he is, he stops thinking about how many crooked jobs they have to shift through to find the ones that won’t make them hate themselves in the morning. He stops thinking about the complexity of life with two amputations, about how hard he wishes Ocelot would drop into the ocean and disappear, how disgusted with himself he is when he remembers ( _longs for, sometimes_ ) the feeling of the Phantom’s hands on his hips. 

He stops thinking about how much he doesn't want this. He stops not wanting it. Everything narrows into a single point of light and sound and sensation: the dim illumination cast by his desk lamp, the sound of Snake grunting against his cheek and the dizzying weightlessness that's overtaking his oxygen-hungry body. If he just trusts Big Boss not to kill him, he’ll get taken care of. That was a promise.

He misses his orgasm because he blacks out from asphyxiation on the edge of it. When he comes to, Snake is pulling open his eyelids and checking his pulse. _Oh,_ Kaz thinks, _how fucking sweet_.

"You were only out for two minutes," Snake informs him. Kaz looks him over blearily - he notices that Snake's pants are done back up, but he's still sporting an obvious erection. On one hand it's nice to know that Big Boss has enough integrity to not fuck himself to completion inside his unconscious body, on the other hand, the fact that he hasn't taken care of himself implies that this whole thing really _was_ just for Kaz's benefit, which is just _so_...

"I'm going to fix your arm, Kaz. Brace yourself." Snake cups one hand around Kaz's elbow, the other over his shoulder. The joint snapping back into place hurts almost as much as it did going in the other direction, but Kaz is so exhausted and fucked out that he can barely react beyond a tired, muted grunt. 

Satisfied that he's done all the appropriate after-care, Big Boss eases back on his heels and begins going for the pocket where he keeps his cigars. Kaz reaches out and stops him, limply slapping his hand down and then hooking his numb fingers in the lapel of Snake's jacket. He drags him back down until their faces are so close their noses bump.

"Why don't... you just... kill me..." Kaz whispers. His throat is so sore that's all he can do. 

Big Boss stares at him with annoyingly sincere concern in his eye. "You're still light-headed from oxygen deprivation. You don't mean that."

"Yeah... I do. Everything I... suffered these last... nine years... all the indignities I... endured... I did it all... for you so... s-so what's the point?"

"Kaz-"

"I... didn't think I was that... kind of person. I wasn't before I... before I met you. You ruined me... so why don't you just... finish me off. Right now. Right here."

"I'm not going to do that."

Kaz tries to laugh, but his vocal chords are too tender. It comes out instead as a croak. "C'mon Boss... this is your... last chance. If you don't kill me... I'm gonna make you regret it. I'm gonna... make you regret that you ever even... met me." 

Big Boss's lips twist into a very genuine smile. "That's unlikely."

"I'm going to... fight you... until... one or both of us is... dead. We're not friends... anymore... you're my... enemy..."

Snake takes Kaz's face in his hands and presses their sweat-damp foreheads together. "I meant it all those years ago when I said that you were my true comrade. Even if you consider me an enemy, that will never change."

"Boss..."

Snake kisses him on the mouth - hungrily, _longingly_ , full of promise. "Think about that, Kaz, after I've gone."

Kaz tries to come up with some cutting retort, some way to repudiate the uncalled and inappropriate kinship that Snake is still assuming between them, but his mind is too foggy. Big Boss's hands slide down his face and come to rest once again in the hollow of his neck. 

This time, he strangles Kaz expertly. Kaz barely even has time to register what's going on before he wakes up in bed, in his own quarters. He struggles into a sitting position and tries to track time, remember who he is and what's happened. He's so disoriented that for a moment, he thinks that his entire encounter with Snake might have been a dream. Then he notices the details: the stains on his pants, the fresh uniform folded on the edge of his bed, the faint trail of ash leading out the door. The _pain_.

He leans his head back against the wall and breathes deep and slow. His hand crawls hesitantly towards his neck, and he presses at the dark bruises forming beneath his shirt collar. 

He... thinks about it.

"No," he mutters to himself. "Not in a million fucking years." Big Boss has dug his own grave. Kazuhira Miller isn't the kind of person to throw himself over a funeral pyre - he's gonna be the man throwing on the gasoline and watching the fire climb towards the sky. Big Boss can go fuck himself. He's never going to get what he wants from Kaz - willingly - ever again.

\- but still, Kaz sits in his dark room flexing his fingers over the bruises in order to feel them hurt until the scent of cigar smoke finally fades from the air.

**Author's Note:**

> [art inspired by this fill](http://scumb.tumblr.com/post/137535615682/nuke-me). please go look at it and give it notes because it is beautiful.
> 
> [more beautiful art](http://cephiedvariable.tumblr.com/post/138043439127/hoodleehoo-its-like-you-really-did-cut-my-head) inspired by this fill. please please look at this.


End file.
